Fragments
by Davan
Summary: A collection of drabbles centered around Hinamori Momo and the fragments of her life that complete the whole. Written for the 100situations community at Livejournal.
1. Blood

These drabbles are the result of a challange that I took up for Hinamori. There will be a variety of characters making apperances, many HitsuHina drabbles, and random moments as I do my best to delve a bit deeper into the character that is Hinamori Momo.

I hope you enjoy them.

**Title**:Blood  
**Characters**: Hinamori Momo  
**Words**:306

Hinamori watched in stunned helplessness as they carried him in on a stretcher. She was being supported by the arm of some fourth division member whose name she did not know and wouldn't have remembered in the morning anyway. Blood was dripping down the arm that was hanging off the side of the carefully created support; a gentle trail of the red liquid marked their trail clearly. His fingers were misshapen, almost twisted in the awkward direction they were turned to, his arm limp and lifeless. Her hands flew to her mouth, holding back the startled scream that she wanted so badly to voice.

Hands quickly reached for her shoulders but she did not feel them, did not see the concerned faces. Her eyes were locked on the gash that marred his normally clear skin, dried blood cracked almost as if he had shed red tears, even the bandages that were wrapped tightly around his upper body and stomach told their own tale, stained crimson with his blood. He was broken and battered and even the eyes that should have been open and defiant were closed, hidden from view.

She fell to her knees, unable to comprehend how much blood he had lost and what it would mean to his chances of survival. It was the sight of his vice-captain, bloodied and wounded herself, carrying the broken hilt of his sword in her left hand, and clutching her own soul slayer in her other, that finally sent the tears spilling down past her cheeks as understanding washed over her.

She knew someone was screaming, knew that somewhere in the distance voices were calling to her, coaxing her to calm herself, to breath.

But she couldn't.

For all she saw were fields of red.

And the broken and bleeding body of the one she could not save.


	2. Disease

**Title: **Disease  
**Words:** 468

Disease and the rot that came with sickness and pain were not normal in soul society. It was a perfect type of world where the only true worry was the hollows and if you were a death god, if you were strong enough to defeat the hollows. She was a vice-captain and that meant strength, power, and the ability to overcome almost any obstacle that the hollows could throw at her. But this was something entirely different.

She stood at the edge of the healers tents, their offices and rooms no longer able to hold those injured, and fought back the urge to weep. This was new, this pain, the disease that was slowly slipping through their city and their lives. It could not be treated here, in these tents in halls, could not be stopped by the gentle hands of the healers who worked so hard to save the lives of those who came to them.

Battered, bloodied, beaten, the looks in their faces promised that they wished for the death that they were fighting so diligently. It was their pride, their instinctive need to live, that kept them going. That kept them fighting the darkness that was slowly starting to creep into their eyes.

This was the disease of war.

This was what would bring them all to their knees; the cries of the injured, the smell of blood and death. This is what the captains could not fight, could not overcome. The very real reality of what war brought to them all.

The taste of death was in the air.

She wanted to walk among them, wanted to whisper soothing words to those that were dying, who could not be saved. Their faces showed their fear, their agony as they pushed forward, knowing as they did that they were only going to greet the next life a little faster than the one laying in the bed next to them.

But she couldn't. She could not bring the words to pass her lips, could not summon the strength that she needed to face those in front of her. Could not push past her own shame of wishing the man who was the cause of all this would return and be who he had once been.

She wept instead; wept for her own foolish mistakes and for those who would not make it through the night. Wept and prayed that the rot and disease that was slowly taking over Soul Society would be defeated, that those who left to do battle would return safely.

Wept for her own mistakes, her own pain, and her own grief.

And prayed.

She prayed through her tears that when those who had gone to do battle did return, they would have something left for them to return to.


	3. Languid

Title: Languid

Words: 589

**Warning:** References to sex.

There was nothing better than the languid feeling that would always wash over her after her more physical activities with a chosen partner. She had heard many girls through out the years talk of the rather fast and quick alliances with one of the males in the city and how brightly and hot their passions had burned.

For her it had never been about how high that one could fly or how weak in the knees the touch of her chosen partner could render her. It had always been about how strong the arms were that held her and how carefully she had been guided to their chosen path. One could always tease and torment on another into blind desire and the need for another's body while a daring and complicated dance could be lost in the moment in such quick affairs. It had never been something that had caught her attention the way it had the other girls. She had always felt that something special and something unique to each person was lost when they gave into the rapid of the moment couplings.

That was not to say that she had not experimented with the one or two partners she had taken during her years in the academy. She could, as well as any other death god she was sure, count on her hands the various ways that one could enjoy the more physical nature of their existence. She had, once, bought the books and studied that as strongly as she had studied anything else required of her in her student years.

Leaving the academy had brought new changes and with those changes came the acknowledgement that she had more important responsibilities. Becoming a vice-captain had ensured that she no longer allowed herself the small alliances that the others girls in the division still carried out. She had to hold herself above the higher standard and be the example.

That was however, not to say that she still didn't enjoy the game or the result of the chase. She had been forced to become picky and watch her reputation. She was held accountable by her captain in all areas of her life and rumors of such things, she had been certain, would not have been tolerated. 

But now she found herself caught up in a new game and being held in new arms that she had not expected to find herself curling into willingly. Never before had she allowed the burden of responsibilities and the worry of their reputation to slide into another's hands so easily. She had never felt this level of freedom or given herself so willingly to another.

She sighed in soft contentment her limp body was tucked close to another's warm presences. She placed a warm kiss on the shoulder her head rested on and wrapping her arm around his waist she relaxed into his presence with an ease that surprised even her. Perhaps she had been right in the end. Fast and quick admittance of affection were not the road or the path that was right for her. Years of friendship and acceptance of each other's past had added a spice and richness to the experience that she had never felt before.

And even as she buried one hand in the tuft of soft hair that just grazed his neck and the languid feeling swept them both off to their dreams she knew she would never stray to far from him or all he offered her again. 

She had found what she wanted.


	4. Aim

**Prompt**: Aim  
**Words:** 307

_Prepare. _

Hinamori slide her hands into one of the many intricate positions that enabled her to channel demon magic. She checked her breathing. It was even and calm, her hands were no longer shaking as they had the first few times she had attempted to use this particular spell.

_Breathe. _

She kept her breathing even, it was critical, if she lost concentration than she would loose her ability to fully master this spell. Her approach was different than the rest of the class, as she often spent several hours a day outside class time in order to understand the how's and why's of the various things that put together each and every spell and incantation in the death gods impressive arsenal.

_Aim. _

She let her hands form the correct positions, once again eased her breathing and narrowed her eyes in concentration.

She would get it this time.

_Incantation. _

She repeated the words, carefully, slowly. She paused between each word, leaving enough room and time between them so she did not actually call the spell into being. She was not trying to blow anything up; she was trying to understand the process and the things that went along with the new spell. She took another deep breath.

And another.

Again she repeated the incantation. This time she was faster and more sure of herself this time. She let the words flow and move this time; let the energy she was supposed to channel flow.

_Fire. _

The energy built.

The fire shot from her hands neatly and she watched as it shot through the air hitting her target. She frowned; once the smoke cleared, it was obvious that she had gone more to the left this time.

She sighed.

Took a deep breath and let her hands take the position again.

Prepare.

Breathe.

Aim.

Fire.

_Again._


	5. Benign

She could remember his smile. It was a look she had longed for as a fresh faced recruit to his division, something she had strived to be the reason for. It was a symbol of the man himself and it haunted her. A gentle look, a kind expression, a soft curl of his mouth that promised he was well pleased. It had been the delight of their division, their captain's smile.

Now it was the one thing she wished to be rid of.

She felt something twist and turn within her. Even now, she could not stand the expression of gentle kindness that seemed to echo back at her wherever she looked. She did not need the calm acceptance of her faults, did not seek the warmth of another's smile. Did not want the mild, harmless expression that they offered her in return for her efforts.

Maybe that was drew her to him now. She had finally, learned the danger of what such a mask could bring. How something as simple and gentle as a kind look could destroy her world. He had never learned to hid his sarcasm did not hide behind the meekness that her former captain had.

She needed the sarcasm that he eluded, needed the slight bit to his words, the quirk of his mouth that promised she would have to act fast to defend herself.

It grounded her.

Reminded her that there was life outside of the walls she had built quickly to defend herself.

Even when she no longer wished to discover what life still had to offer her.

She didn't know whether to be grateful or hate him for it.

It was a decision she could not make.

She just couldn't.


	6. Realizations

AN: So Kellen and I keep having this plot discussion about By Our Hands and in this discussion we talk about the point where Hinamori has to make a decision about Aizen. I always maintain that Hitsugaya should just shake some sense into her and be done with it.

That conversation spawned this particular little drabble.

**Realizations**

He was shaking her. His eyes were narrowed. His hands were on her shoulders and he was staring down at her with the most intense expression she had ever seen from him.

Idiot.

He was calling her an idiot. And a fool. And a hundred other things. She would have been offended, and upset, and would have protested the rough treatment that was so far from his normal character that she couldn't imagine him ever touching her on his own, much less shake her.

Except behind the anger, and the pain, and the million other things, she could see the worry. The hurt. And all the other things that he kept from the world so carefully.

He didn't stay long and she could say that she understood. So she watched his back, for the first time, as he walked away from her. His shoulders were tense, his back was straight, he was tall (for all his short size), proud, and someone that she didn't know.

Her shoulders trembled, slumped, and she could not stand. She slipped to her knees, her eyes blurring so that she could not see the path he had taken any longer. She could not see the floor or her hands. Instead she concentrated on the words that were echoing, echoing, inside her head.

She was a fool.

And she didn't know what to do about it.


	7. Shamed

Prompt: Shamed  
Word Count: 296

She needed to apologize, to beg for forgiveness. For being such a fool, an idiot who had been blinded by her own self desires for everything to just return the way she wanted it to. For believe her own selfish lies instead of trusting the truth of his words. She should have been able to walk further than the front of his doorstep. Should have been able to throw herself at his feet and ask for his forgiveness, but she was fast discovering an ugly side to her personality.

It wasn't pride that was keeping her from going to him and admitting her mistakes. Lord knew that she had enough of those to last them both several lifetimes. The problem was that she was afraid. Afraid and full of shame at her own ignorance and naïve child ness that had almost gotten him killed, twice.

Afraid of what sort of reaction he would give her or what he would say if asked for the forgiveness she craved. She knew he had ever right to say no, to ignore her, that was how people got over things, how they found what they needed.

They moved on.

She wasn't entirely sure if she could handle that knowledge, if she could look up at him and see nothing more than the blank stare he was so good at giving, and knowing that he had moved past her, found something that she could never attain. That he had finally found a life that didn't include her in it.

That would break her.

And so she sat outside of his room, staring at the door, wondering what would happen if she ever got up the nerve to walk those last few steps and knock on his door.

Wondered but never did.


End file.
